


Just Another Case

by rich_not_found



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Crime, Gen, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 15:25:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11512173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rich_not_found/pseuds/rich_not_found
Summary: The theft of some valuable paintings forces Nick to delve deep into his past life dragging an unwitting Judy along for the ride.





	1. The Couple

“Hey, Carrots? Carrots? Carrots, you awake? Carrots? Judy? Hey, Judy? Judy? Hey, Carrots? Ca...”

“Nick, for fluffs sake, it’s 2am! What is so gosh darn important that it can't wait until the morning?”

“Why did the cow cross the road?”

“… Go to sleep, Nick.”

Judy rolled over onto her other side hoping to fall asleep sometime soon. She'd thought it had been a nice gesture to let Nick crash at her apartment whilst he searched for his own place. After all, it wouldn’t have looked good for the newly graduated rookie cop to still be sleeping on Finnick’s sofa, not with the fennec technically being on the opposite side of the law. Two months and many sleepless nights later though, she wanted her floor space back.

“Well? Come on fox, don’t leave us hanging!” came a voice from through the apartment wall.

“To get to the udder side!”

“Ha! Nice.”

“That was terrible!” said a second voice.

“How was it terrible?”

“It was just a stupid pun!”

“Argh, you have no sense of humour!”

“No, I just don’t like dumb jokes!”

“You’re dumb!”

Judy heard Nick chuckle quietly to himself. This was the third argument this week that the fox had managed to trigger between her neighbours and it was only Wednesday. Thankfully, the constant bickering was noise that Judy had long ago learnt to tune out. What she hadn’t yet learnt to tune out however, was a certain dumb fox.

“Did I ever tell you about the time Finnick and I bought a disused firehouse?”

“Can it please wait until I've slept?”

Nick ignored her and continued, “We set up this hustle where we pretended to be paranormal investigators.”

“Nick…”

“It was all going so well, until would you believe it, we came across a real ghost!”

“Nick…”

“Some guy got possessed by this ancient devil, everything went totally fubar...”

“Nick, this is plot to Ghostbusters. Let me hazard a guess; does this end with a fight against a giant marshmallow gopher?”

“What? Don’t be stupid! It was a giant marshmallow hamster, completely different!”

Judy could sense Nick smirking at her in his usual way, even in the darkness of the room. The fox may now be a productive member of society, but his personality had changed little from when they first met.

“Go to sleep, Nick,” Judy repeated. “I want to be able to stand up at work tomorrow.”

“Alright, one last joke?”

Judy sighed. “Fine.”

“What goes dot, dot, dash, squeak?”

“I don’t know Nick, what goes dot, dot, dash, squeak?”

“Mouse code!”

“… Goodnight, Nick.”

“Night, Carrots.”

The following morning, Judy struggled to bring herself up to the usual level of enthusiasm she normally had for a new day at work. Nick bizarrely seemed to be able to fully function on only a few hours’ sleep, something Judy envied him immensely for. Although a large dosage of coffee seemed to be a key ingredient to this state. 

Judy wasn’t a huge fan of the black stuff, but when needs must. A few hours later, the two partners were sitting in the bullpen, wide awake, twitching slightly from caffeine, and ready for whatever Chief Bogo had to throw at them.

“Carrots, I bet you five bucks the chief's in a bad mood when he comes in.”

Judy snorted, “He's in a bad mood ninety percent of the time, what makes you think there's a remote chance I'll take that bet?”

“Alright, ten bucks and I buy lunch if I lose.”

“Urgh, fine.”

The look on the chief’s face when he entered seconds later made it clear that Judy had lost.

“Alright, sit down, shut up, and let’s get this over with,” he said brusquely. “Firstly, if I catch whoever scrawled the dirty poem on the wall of the third floor men’s room, I will personally castrate them with the same garden shears so poetically described in the third stanza.”

A wave of snickering rippled through the room. Judy looked up to see Nick with a familiar look on his face. A look of complete innocence honed through years of hustling that Judy had slowly learnt was a total lie. Realising the fox was clearly the guilty party, she made a mental note to berate him later for it.

“Quiet!” Bogo growled, eliciting instant silence from the gathered officers. “Now, down to proper business. The new mayor is desperate to follow up on his election pledge of a greater police presence on the streets. With no regards to any other pressing matters we may have to deal with, every single one of you is on patrol today. And by patrol, I don’t mean sitting parked up in a cruiser for hours on end, eating your third drive through meal of the day.”

The last remark was not directed at any officer in particular, but then more than one officer in the room was guilty of such an offence.

“I want you patrolling on foot, in public areas, as much as possible,” continued the chief, “Kiss babies, help old folk cross the street, take selfies with teenagers, whatever, I don’t care. If the new mayor wants high visibility, that’s what he’s going to get, and if someone gets murdered while we’re busy playing community service, that’s his problem. Dismissed.”

A quarter of an hour later, Judy and Nick were climbing into their patrol car.

“Take selfies with teenagers, ha!” chortled Nick, “Something about the way he said it tells me that Bogo has no idea what a selfie is, he just saw it mentioned on a ZNN report about current youth trends.”

“Whereas you Nick are totally down with the kids,” said Judy sarcastically, “Remind me, how old are you again?”

“Darling, I am young at heart, that's all that matters.”

“Pfft, whatever gramps. Although, defacing bathroom walls with dirty poetry? Maybe you are younger than you look, I'll be sure to buy you something for your twelfth birthday.”

Nick clasped his paws to his chest in mock offence. “My poetry needs an audience, and what better manner to ensure this than putting it on display in a heavily frequented area.”

“You knew very well Bogo would be annoyed at it, that's why you made the bet with me.”

“Rule 13 of hustling: the best gambles are always the ones where you're certain of the outcome,” explained Nick, “Let's just say I'm used to playing with loaded dice.”

“Still, you are not getting that ten bucks off of me.”

“Such an untrustworthy bunny, going back on her word. How can I ever trust you again Carrots?”

“Dumb fox.”

“Hey, it's called a...”

“Don't say it.”

Judy began adjusting the driver's seat for her species and decided to change the subject before Nick could annoy her further. “So, what do you think about this?”

“About what?” replied Nick, casually doing the same on the passenger side.

“The new mayor's promises. 'More cops on the street, visible presence' and all that.”

“You’re trying to figure out how politicians think?” asked Nick with a sly grin. “Go easy there Carrots, I need your brain not to have a meltdown today.”

“Well, I guess as long as we don’t have another Bellwether on our paws, city hall can command us how they please.”

“That’s the spirit, Hopps. ‘Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and…’ ooh, I am not completing that quote.”

Judy chuckled, revved up the engine, and the two of them set off into the city. The day was a typical bright and cloudless summer day, not the sort of day you want to be cooped up in a vehicle for too long. Especially one with broken air conditioning.  
“Useless piece of…” muttered Nick, ineffectually banging the dashboard in an attempt to get things working. “You know, I’d be willing to take a pay cut if they just gave us some equipment that worked for once.”

His partner looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“…ok, I’d be grateful if others willingly took a pay cut on my behalf.”

Judy snorted, “Yeah, the Nicholas Wilde Benevolence Fund for Overheated Foxes. I’m sure it’ll be seen as a worthwhile cause.”

“I’ll have you know that every year, literally dozens of foxes are forced to exist in uncomfortable situations caused by faulty air con, poor air circulation, and most importantly of all; lack of frozen treats. Speaking of which…”

His partner knew exactly where he was going with this line of thought. “We’ve been going ten minutes, Nick, we’re not pulling over so you get can a snack!”

“Aww, c’mon Carrots, the chief said he wanted us to generate goodwill in the city. What better way than supporting local businesses?”

“No Nick! We’re going to do our job properly, not play hooky in order to grab some food.”

The fox went silent which Judy took to mean he’d let it go; until she looked over at him. Nick’s ears were drooped back as though he was upset, and his eyes showed sorrow and sadness. To top it all off; he started whining.

“Don’t give me that look! I-It doesn’t work on me!”

It did work on her, and Nick knew very well that it did. His patented 'sad cub routine' always worked. It only took half a minute before Judy snapped.

“Argh, fine, ok?”

Nick immediately snapped back to his usual self. “Sweet, take a left up here. There’s a great place down on Gordon Street, does amazing raspberry ice cream … and also blueberry, but even I like to mix things up every now and again.”

Before Judy could do so, a familiar voice came over the radio.

“We’ve got a ten-three… no wait; ten-forty-seven… hang on… what’s the code for domestic disturbance again?”

Nick grabbed the radio, “We hear you Clawhouser, what’s up?”

“Oh, hey Nick! We got a call from some guy saying his neighbours are having the yelling match of the century. 262 Flock Street.”

“We'll check it out Spots, car nine out.”

Nick put the radio down and grinned. “Ah, nothing like a happy marriage to start the day off, eh Carrots?”

Judy frowned, “Unfortunately Nick, I remember the last time we broke up a domestic disturbance.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault the perp decided to flee. And it's definitely not my fault his chosen escape route went through the shower block of the nunnery next door. And it is totally, definitely not my fault that the showers were occupied. Besides, I apologised didn’t I?”  
“Yes Nick, the Sisters of the Holy Order of St. Bartholomew, whom, might I add, hold a solemn vow to remain teetotal, really appreciated your apologetic gift of six bottles of whiskey.”

“Do I detect a hint of sarcasm, Carrots? You know, I think I’ve been a bad influence on you, you never used to have this much sass.”

Judy flashed Nick a very un-bunny like grin; an expression she’d learnt from the fox. Over the past few months, Nick had been an influence on her just as much as she’d been an influence on him. Judy had given Nick a sense of pride and joy in both his work and his life in general. Whereas Nick had taught her how to let herself go every now and again. No longer was she on cop mode 24/7. The two of the them were now considered the best partners on the force... at least by themselves.

Ten minutes later they pulled up to the address Clawhouser had given them. Flock Street was your usual urban residential road. On street parking, some attempts at greenery, and most of all, peace and quiet. Stepping out of the car, they heard the sound of angry shouting quite clearly, as did several passersby who looked towards where the noise was coming from with various degrees of concern.

“Hoo boy, these are always fun,” commented Nick, an unnatural unease to his tone. The two cops walked up to the door with 262 on it and rang the doorbell. The shouting did not abate, but slowly became louder until both of them could clearly hear what was being said.

“... and that's why you should never have told your fucking brother!” came a female voice.

“Look, the article I read online said you should share your concerns with a confident. How was I supposed to know he'd tell his wife!” replied a male voice.

“Because they're fucking married dumbass! And once Shauna gets hold of gossip like that, it's only a matter of time before the whole of fucking Zootopia knows!”

The door swung violently open revealing an angry looking, middle aged, female hyena. “What do you want...”

Her voice trailed away as she realised the two mammals in front of her were officers of the law.

“Ahem,” Judy cleared her throat, “Good morning ma'am, we're responding to a call from one of your neighbours about a possible disturbance. May we come in?”

The hyena looked between her and Nick for a few seconds before groaning, “Oh great, as if this couldn't get any worse.”

She stepped to one side, “Yes, officers. Please come in.”

Nick and Judy walked past the wife to see a similarly aged male hyena looking very bashful as he motioned for them to go through into the living room. Nothing seemed out of place, which was a good sign. It meant they hadn't been throwing anything at each other. Domestic calls were much easier to solve if they hadn't got physical. 

Judy and Nick sat down on the sofa, whilst the couple nervously stood around looking like schoolchildren who'd been caught doing something they shouldn't have. Getting out a notebook and pen, Judy turned on her professionalism.

“I'm Officer Hopps, this is Office Wilde,” she said. “We received a call this morning about loud noises coming from this residence, possibly an argument. Considering my partner and I overheard part of said argument before you answered the door, would you like to tell us what's going on Mr and Mrs..?”

“Bonepaw,” replied the husband, “And really officers, it's nothing. Just your standard... marital disagreement.”

The wife, Mrs Bonepaw, snorted derisively. “Yes, I'm sure it's completely normal to tell your brother about your bedroom problems.”

“Honey, can we please...”

“He hasn't touched me in three months!”

Neither Nick nor Judy knew how to respond to that. Thankfully, the couple seemed more interested in continuing their argument than noticing the officer's embarrassment.

“Face it,” continued Mrs Bonepaw, “You don't find me attractive anymore!”

“I just... I'm not a sex machine. If it were up to you, we'd be doing it so often I couldn't walk. I work over fifty, sometimes sixty hours a week, if I tried to keep pace with you, I'd be dead within a month.”

“Oh, mam up for fuck's sake. What do you...”

“Martha listen, I just don't have as high a sex drive as you!”

The couple continued to argue. After five minutes, the two officers knew far more about the couple's sex life, or seemingly lack of, than they'd ever wanted to. Judy's notes read more like erotic fiction than a police report. As the couple started going into detail about the types of porn they'd found on each other's electronic devices, Nick decided to intervene.

“Ahem.”

The couple's heads snapped round, eyes wide as they suddenly remembered the two cops sitting on their sofa. If the heat in her cheeks were visible through her fur, Judy would currently be the same colour as Nick. Thankfully, her partner was much calmer in a situation like this.

“Okay,” continued Nick, “Obviously the two of you have some... issues that need ironing out. We're definitely not the best qualified to help you with this kind of thing. All we can ask, is to keep any arguments to city approved levels of noise pollution.”

The hyena couple nodded sheepishly, avoiding looking the fox in the eyes.

“Alright then, it's obvious to us this is nothing more than a marital argument, so we'll see ourselves out.”

Nick stood up followed closely by Judy once her somewhat distracted brain caught up with what was happening. As they started to leave, Nick paused for a second as he spotted a pen and notepad by the couple's phone. He quickly jotted something down, ripped the page off, and handed it to the husband.

“Here, this is the address of someone who may be able to assist you, tell 'em Nick Wilde sent you.”

The husband muttered his thanks. Judy looked at her partner quizzically, but waited until they were out of the door before saying anything.

“What did write on the paper?”

“Oh, just somewhere they'll be able to get some much needed marital aid,” he answered cryptically.

“You know the address of a marriage guidance counsellor off by heart?” she asked confused.

“What? Hell no, I gave him the address of a sex shop.”

Judy's embarrassment, that had been fading, came back in full force.

“Oh. My. God Nick, you have got to be kidding me!”

“Believe me Carrots, all that couple needs is a bit of kink. I'd be willing to bet they haven't done the business in any position but missionary since they were married. Throw in some bondage gear and a strap on and they'll be generating a completely different kind of noise disturbance in no time.”

Judy did not want to ask her partner why he knew the address of a sex shop off by heart. Since he was always bragging to her about how he knew everyone in Zootopia, Judy reasoned that maybe Nick just knew the owner. He'd hung around with mobsters and other less than salubrious individuals back when he was a hustler, it was highly possible he'd know people in the sex business as well.

In her eyes though, the more reasoning Judy could do to convince herself not to think of her partner buying sex toys the better. She was already heavily embarrassed from interrogating, or rather just listening to the hyena couple explain the intricacies of their sex life, but she was still currently too flustered to function properly. Unfortunately, her partner noticed.

“What's the matter Carrots?” said Nick. “Something bothering you?”

Nick's voice betrayed his amusement, further exacerbating Judy's current condition.

“Is all this talk of kinky sex embarrassing the pure virginial bunny girl?”

“No! Just... alright fine, it's embarrassing. And I am not a virgin!”

“Oh I believe you. Considering how you bunnies are when it comes to multiplying, I'd have thought a virgin adult bunny was basically impossible.”

“Okay, firstly, that's kind of speciesist. Secondly, I had a... very conservative upbringing, so don't blame me for getting embarrassed at this kind of thing.”

“Hey, I've met your parents, they are fine mammals. Don't blame them for your failings.”

Judy socked Nick in the arm. “Dumb fox.”

“Virgin bunny,” he responded.

They got back in their cop car, immediately thankful that when the engine started up, the air conditioning decided to do the same thing.

“Another day, another case in the bag,” said Nick, rubbing his paws together. “What say we go get a celebratory beer down at Manny’s?”

“Nick, it’s nine am,” explained Judy, “We’ve only been on patrol for an hour.”

“An hour!? I could’ve sworn time was moving faster than that. Oh well, back to the ice cream idea.”

Judy rolled her eyes, but before she could pull out onto the road, the radio crackled to life once more.

“Guys! Everyone! There's been a robbery at the Museum of Art, we need all cars in the area to...”

“Dammit Clawhouser, how many times have I told you to use police code!?” came a more distant voice.

“Sorry Chief! There's been a ten...ninety...two?”

“Oh for heavens sake, give it here.”

There a brief pause before Chief Bogo's voice came over the radio.

“Any car downtown that's not currently occupied, get yourself over to the Museum of Art!”

“Sure thing Chief, car nine responding.”

Judy put the radio down once more. “He did not sound happy.”

“When is he ever?” replied Nick. “Hmm, maybe I should send him to the same place as Mr Bonepaw back there.”

“Nick...”

“They sell many high quality stress relieving products for the modern male Carrots.”

“Nick...”

“Don't worry Carrots, I'll give you the address as well if you want. Mention my name and you're certain to get a discount.”

“Nick, stop talking or you're walking to the museum.”

“Shutting up now.”

“Good boy.”

As they set off, Nick muttered softly to himself, “I'm never gonna get ice cream at this rate.”


	2. The Museum of Art

Ten minutes later, Nick and Judy arrived at the museum. The scene that met them was one of hectic cops, and an onlooking crowd of confused citizens and desperate news reporters. Being two of the more publicly known officers of the city's police force, they were immediately accosted by the press as they stepped out their car.

“Officer Hopps! What can you tell us of the heist?”

“Are we dealing with some sort of criminal mastermind?”

“Is this the beginning of a deadly crime wave?”

“Officer Wilde, are the rumours about you and Gazelle true?”

The two officers ignored them knowing it was best not to talk to the press with zero information on the crime. Walking through the front doors of the museum they found a considerably less chaotic situation with various officers taking statements from staff members. Chief Bogo stood in the centre of the lobby talking to a very jittery looking goat in a suit and glasses. When he spotted Nick and Judy, he waved them over.

“Mr Capra here is the curator of the museum," he said to the two cops before turning to the goat. "Mr Capra, if you would kindly repeat to my officers what you just told me."

Judy flipped open her notebook as the curator started talking.

“Certainly,” he said, “The museum has been shut for six months for extensive renovation work, we are... were due to open again today. The mayor was even due to come for a ceremony at eleven this morning. I came in about a couple of hours ago to finish off the final preparations. Usually, when I come in, I meet up with our night-time security guard, Jeremy. But distracted as I was with all the re-opening stuff, I didn't think to go round to his office for an hour or so. When I did, I found him tied up on the floor and gagged like something you'd see in a movie. After I'd untied him, he told me some armed mammals had forced their way in last night. That's when I called 911.”

“What did they steal?” asked Nick.

“We don't know yet,” replied the goat. “We have over 8000 items on display; paintings, sculptures, porcelain, jewellery, we're still combing the museum trying to find out what's missing.”

“Anything caught on the cameras?” asked Judy. This time, Chief Bogo responded.

“Nothing. The tapes have been wiped, everything after eight pm last night. Luckily, the footage is transmitted to backup servers off site. Unluckily, that footage has been corrupted, probably intentionally.”

Before they could question further, another museum employee came running over. The female beaver addressed the curator in a state of mild panic.

“Sir, we've figured out what they stole.”

“Well?” he replied with a sigh of resignation.

“I... I think you better come with me.”

The beaver led the curator, followed closely by Nick, Judy, and the chief, out of the lobby and into the museum. They passed by a multitude of exhibits, ranging from modern abstract sculpture to Renaissance paintings by old masters, walking all the way to back of the building and into a staff only area that looked to be some kind of storage area.

“I had an inkling to check the warehouse rather than the museum floor,” explained the beaver, “Sadly, it wasn't long before I figured out what was missing.”

“Oh no,” said the curator, a look of despair on his face, “The Van Goats, where are the Van Goats?”

There was a noticeable gap between several crates. The already twitchy curator became even more distressed.

“No, no, no, they've got to be round here somewhere, they can't...”

The goat quickly gave up trying to convince himself of anything but the truth. He slumped down on a nearby crate, taking off his glasses and putting his face in his hoofs.

“Err, Mr Capra,” said Judy carefully, “Can you explain what exactly you think has gone missing?”

The curator sighed, “We had six paintings by Vincent Van Goat on loan from another gallery. They were supposed to be installed in special exhibition room in time for the grand reopening but we fell behind schedule. It was due to be finished in another week but I guess that's not going to happen now.”

“How much do you think the paintings are worth?” asked Nick.

“They're basically priceless, but on the black market? Untold millions,” answered the curator.

“Alright,” said Chief Bogo, “Mr Capra, if you and your staff could continue searching to see if anything else has gone missing. Also, we'll need precise details of the paintings that you know are gone.”

It would take several days to do a full inventory of the museum's collection, but by lunchtime it seemed fairly certain that the only items missing were the six Van Goat paintings. As Chief Bogo addressed the assembled press in the lobby of the museum, Nick and Judy sat to one side watching.

“You know, it was nice of the staff to open up the museum café for us,” said Nick, coffee in one paw and a muffin in the other. “Then again, I suppose they have to make the money back somehow.”

“The missing paintings are worth millions, Nick. They're not gonna make the money back selling muffins.”

“Have you tasted these though, Carrots?” asked Nick between bites, “I would definitely rate these as the thirteenth best muffins in Zootopia.”

“I'm not going to ask why you have a mental list of muffin sellers that long. I am going to ask you to stop getting crumbs on the case notes!”

“Oops, sorry,” said Nick, brushing them off the table.

“So, first thoughts?” asked Judy.

“The curator needs to do something about his stress levels before the high blood pressure kills him.”

“Thoughts about the case Nick!” chastised Judy.

“Oh, well, what do we know?”

“The security guard was sent to hospital for a check up but Fangmeyer's sent us his statement. He says someone was banging on the staff entrance around nine-thirty last night. When he went to answer he was rushed by a gang of raccoons, tied up, and dumped in his office. One of the raccoons stayed behind and fiddled with the computer system, presumably that's when the security tapes were erased. Once he left, the security guard didn't see or hear anything until he was discovered by Mr Capra in the morning.”

“How many raccoons are we talking about?”

“He thinks three, but there may have been more.”

“Especially if you take into account there may very well have been a getaway driver slash lookout waiting outside.”

“Good thinking. He wasn't able to give a physical description of any of the raccoons beyond the fact they were in all black clothes and wearing masks.”

As Nick opened his muzzle, Judy interrupted. “If you make the obvious joke about raccoon and masks, I'm asking Chief Bogo for a new partner.”

“Carrots, I was not about to make such a racially insensitive comment.”

“Liar.”

“Alright fine, I was, but you set the joke up so well.”

Judy rolled her eyes before continuing, “So we have no information beyond the fact that a gang of at least three perhaps four or more raccoons have made off with six Vincent Van Goat paintings.”

“Great, we'll have this solved by Friday easily,” said Nick sarcastically. “Here's hoping forensics come up with something.”

The pair were interrupted by Chief Bogo coming over, having finished his press conference.

“Dealing with those idiots never gets any easier,” he muttered.

“Now chief,” said Nick, “A free press is crucial to our society. Just because they care more about sensationalism than they do about the truth doesn't mean we should complain about them.”

Bogo merely grunted in response. It was always very difficult to tell whether such a noise was in agreement or not.

“Anyway,” the chief continued, “I can't spare anyone important for this because of the whole business about putting more bodies on the streets. So as of now, you two are in charge of the case.”

“Nice to know we're not considered important, sir.”

“Don't care Wilde,” replied Bogo.

“Chief,” said Judy, “I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but shouldn't you assign this case to... you know, a detective? Not just a couple of low ranking officers.”

Bogo looked down at Judy, a noticeable frown on his face.

“Hopps, have I never told you why I assign cases like this to uniformed officers rather than any of our detectives?”

“No sir,” replied Judy.

“To put it bluntly, the detectives on offer at the ZPD are the most useless bunch of drunk, inept, lazy mammals you will ever come across. If there was a mammal standing next to a dead body, covered in blood and wielding a knife whilst shouting 'I just killed this guy', our detectives would spend six months investigating and then blame the victim's dentist despite him being on vacation halfway around the time at the time of the murder.”

“That's an oddly specific example chief,” said Nick.

“You have no idea,” said Bogo with a sigh, “Anyway, although I could probably do without more half baked criticism from the press, I'm more interested in keeping the mayor happy. Let's face it, this is hardly the Nighthowler case. As far as I'm concerned it's a bunch of pretty pictures lost by a fool who never considered to hire more than one mammal to guard a building full of priceless antiquities. Do you best, and keep me up to date on your progress.”

“Yes sir,” said Judy enthusiastically, “We won't let you down.”

Chief Bogo wandered off without another word, leaving the two officers to themselves.

“The chief doesn't seem overly concerned with the heist,” said Judy.

“Maybe he's not a big fan of post-impressionism,” suggested Nick. “Which is odd considering he has a degree in art history.”

“Oh he does not.”

“Why would I lie about such a thing, Carrots?”

“Because you enjoy making me believe in random things so that I might embarrass myself in the future.”

“Oh c'mon, when have I ever done such a thing?”

“When I first met your mother, you told me beforehand to, and I quote, 'not mention the weird thing about her tail'. I spent the entire lunch glancing sideways at her tail trying to figure out what you meant only for you to tell me afterwards their wasn't actually anything wrong with it!”

Nick chuckled, “Hehe, yeah that was a classic.”

“It looked like I was checking out her... you know!”

“Her butt?”

“Yes!”

“Hey, my mom is a fine looking woman, I would not blame you.”

Judy let out a frustrated sigh. “Regardless of whether or not your mother now believes I'm a lesbian, let's just figure out how we're going to go about solving this case.”

She looked down at her notes, hoping that some idea would form in her mind.

“Where's the staff entrance the security guard said he got rushed at?”

Nick's idea led them into another staff only area just off of the lobby. At the end of long corridor, with various offices to either side, including the taped off security office, was a door leading out to the staff parking lot. Looking around, they saw they were just round from the main entrance to the museum and could clearly hear the general hubbub of the gathered crowds.

The parking lot had a wire fence running around it and was accessible via an automated barrier. Other than a few cars presumably belonging to the staff currently in the museum, nothing seemed out of place. The two officers walked over to the barrier to check if it had been tampered with.

“It looks like you need an employee pass to get it to open,” Judy pointed out.

“So, you think there may have been collusion from inside?” asked Nick.

“That's a possibility,” replied Judy, “We may need to interrogate the security guard ourselves. I suppose they could have always parked the getaway vehicle out on the street.”

“If there even was one,” said Nick, “The paintings in question were small enough to have been carried away in a bag.”

Nick had a second look at the barrier, a concentrated frown appear on his head.

“Wait, I've seen a barrier like this before. It's an FCC 3000, same as a warehouse I used to go into down in Sahara Square.”

The fox went around the side of the barrier and flipped down an access panel. 

“Hmm, let's see. Yeah, if you cut the red wire and short circuit it with the green one it should open up. If the barrier had been tampered with, you'd be able to see the loose wiring still.”

He turned to Judy to see her looking at him with mild annoyance.

“What?”

“Why do you know how to hotwire an automatic barrier?”

“Oh, don't worry Carrots, we knew the guy who owned the warehouse, it's just that Finnick lost his keycard one day and we never bothered to ask for another one.”

Judy shook her head, “This is getting us nowhere. Unless either forensic evidence or an eyewitness turns up, we may as well sit on our butts for the next month.”

As if anticipating Nick's imminent celebration of a paid month off work, Wolford arrived to deliver some news.

“Hey, you two. Chief said you were in charge of the investigation?”

Judy nodded in affirmation.

“I've been canvassing the businesses across from the museum. The owner of one of the bars says he saw a white van exiting the museum parking lot last night at approximately ten pm last night.”

“Ten? That's half an hour after the security guard said he was tied up,” stated Nick.

“So the timings add up,” said Judy. “Did the bar owner get any other details about the van?”

“Oh, not much, only the licence plate,” answered Wolford, a satisfied grin on his muzzle.

Judy grabbed the piece of paper Wolford held out for her, “A lead! Nick, we have a lead!”

“Hooray,” said Nick with considerably less enthusiasm than his bunny partner.

“Come on Nick. Thanks Wolford!”

Judy dragged a reluctant Nick back to their squad car. Once inside, she grabbed the radio.

“Benny, you there?”

“Judy!” came the response a few seconds later. “What's happening at the museum? The news stations are going crazy over it!”

“Oh you know, just the usual” she replied casually, “Gang stealing priceless Van Goat paintings. The chief's assigned us to solve it.”

Clawhouser gasped, “Sounds serious guys.”

“It is. Although if I'm honest, Bogo didn't seem too bothered about it.”

“That doesn't surprise me,” said the Clawhouser, “I've seen the chief's apartment, it's covered in prints of Andy Warthog. I think he even did his thesis on him. I don't think he's a fan of the post-impressionists.”

Judy looked over to see Nick wearing a look that could only be interpreted as 'I told you so'. Choosing to ignore him, she changed subject.

“Anyway, any chance you could run a license plate for us, Ben?”

“Sure thing, shoot me the numbers.”

“It's 30DHT92,” said Judy, reading from the paper Wolford had given her.

“Okay, let's see. It says... oh, 'no results found'.”

“What? Check it again, 30DHT92.”

“... Nope, not coming up with anything, Judy.”

“Maybe the bar owner read the plate wrong?” she suggested.

“Or maybe the plates were complete forgeries to begin with,” countered Nick. “Much more difficult to track.”

Judy thanked Clawhouser and put the radio down.

“So we're back to being stuck,” she said, her ears flopped down her back showing her frustration. “Unless we check last night's recordings for every traffic camera in a ten block radius for generic white vans,”

“Probably not the best use of our time,” replied Nick, “If the plates are complete fakes then there is a way to trace them.”

“How?” asked Judy, her eyes narrowing.

“If the plates were simple fakes knocked together in a lock-up somewhere, they'd be easily picked out as such by any camera with automatic license plate recognition, I.E. most traffic cameras,” he explained. “If you want a plate to come up as unreadable rather than fake, it has to look almost exactly like a real one, but also have a few subtle changes to shake off the ALPR, and that takes a person with special tools and expertise.”

“Why do I get the feeling I'm about to be introduced to another dodgy friend from your past life?”

“Luckily I know just the gal,” said Nick cheerfully, pretending he hadn't heard Judy, “Laura's an old friend, best mechanic in Tundratown. Always very discrete if you need cash in hand, no questions asked automotive work done.” 

Judy let out an annoyed grumble and switched on the engine, “Just tell me her address.”


	3. The Mechanic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So er, yeah, I wrote some more of this finally.

Judy had never quite got used to the freezing cold air of Tundratown. She appreciated the fact that the climate wasn't intended to be made comfortable for someone of her species, but when even polar bears were complaining about it being too chilly maybe they could turn down the climate wall just a bit.

They arrived at their destination just as the weather turned bad. Through the increasingly dense snowstorm they could just about make out light coming from an open garage across the street. Jumping out of the patrol car and crossing the street with haste, they got themselves out of the cold.

Despite being open to the elements, the garage was surprisingly warm. Heaters hummed away in corners, no doubt pushing up the owner's energy bill to ridiculous levels. The sound of the heaters though was almost drowned out by heavy metal music blaring from a radio near one the several cars in the garage. Said car also had a pair of spotted legs sticking out from under it.

Nick walked over to the radio and casually turned it off, eliciting a string of swear words from the owner of the spotted legs. A paw appeared and a grabbed the edge of the car. A quick tug revealed a young female cheetah in dirty mechanic's overalls.

“What the fuck do you wan...” she began, before looking up.

“Laura!” exclaimed Nick happily, “How's life treating you?”

Judy saw the cheetah's face twitch ever so slightly. Something she was sure her partner would have picked up on as well.

“Wilde,” said Laura, in a voice as cold as the weather outside.

She stood up, wiping her paws on an already dirty rag, before retiring to an adjoined office purposely ignoring the two officers.

“Aww c'mon, Laura,” pleaded Nick, “Don't be like that.”

The office door slammed shut.

“Old friend, huh?” asked Judy with a raised eyebrow.

“It's uh, complicated,” replied Nick.

“I'm gonna hazard a guess at an old flame who you split with on bad terms?”

“Not her, her mother” muttered Nick.

Judy let out a laugh, “Nick, she's like, your age. How much older was her mother?”

Nick frowned. “Age is just a number Carrots, I happened to be going through a phase where I preferred mature women.”

“Sure,” said Judy, stifling a giggle, “But even so, people don't get that upset just because you were their mother's toy boy.”

“To be fair, she didn't know I was her mother's toy boy until her father found me hiding in the wardrobe and dragged me out the house.”

Judy could no longer resist. She burst out laughing evoking prompting annoyed looks from the fox.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up fuzzball.”

“I'm s-sorry, Nick,” stuttered Judy as she brought the laughter under control, “But seriously, the thought of you getting beaten up by a jealous husband for sleeping with his wife is just too much.”

“Hey, he didn't beat me up for sleeping with his wife.”

“No?”

“No. He beat me up after I suggested turning it into a cosy threesome.”

Judy stopped laughing. “Oh c'mon, now you're just pulling my tail.”

Nick's uncharacteristic embarrassment told Judy he was not.

“The Dutch call it a ménage à trois,” he insisted.

“Isn't that French?”

“Whatever, the point is he should have been more open minded.”

Judy let out a final chuckle as she rolled her eyes, “Okay then, Casanova, how about you wait here whilst I go and interview the daughter you scarred so much.”

Leaving Nick to simmer, Judy walked over to the office and knocked gently on the door.

“Excuse me Miss, em... Laura?”

“What?” came the terse reply.

“My name is Officer Judy Hopps, I was wondering if I could ask you a few technical questions regarding license plates?”

The question was met with silence. Judy was about to say something before being pre-empted by the sound of the door being unlocked.

“What's the hell's Wilde told you about the work I do here?” Laura asked sternly as she stepped out the office, her eyes darting to Nick as he cautiously made his way over.

“Nothing that Officer Cottontail here might constitute as an arrestable offence,” he replied.

Laura's eyes narrowed at him, causing Nick to noticeably flinch. Judy took the opportunity to study the cheetah carefully. She didn't seem to be the type to be involved in criminal proceedings, but then Judy had long since learned about   
the problems of profiling. If they were going to get any information on these license plates, Laura had to be trusted.

“Don't worry, ma'am, we're not here to question you over any crimes that may or may not involve you personally,” Judy explained diplomatically, “We just require some information on something Nick said you were an expert on.”

Laura sighed, “Fine, ask your questions.”

“Great,” said Judy with more enthusiasm than she meant to, earning a couple of funny looks from the fox and the cheetah. Composing herself, she got down to the task of questioning Laura.

“There was a robbery last night at the Museum of Art,” she started.

“Yeah, I heard about it on the radio earlier. What's that got to do with me?”

“The van they used as a getaway vehicle was using fake plates,” answered Nick. “Unreadable fake plates at a guess. We were wondering if you knew anything about that?”

“You said you didn't tell the bunny anything about my illegal activities!” said Laura, poking an accusatory finger in Nick's chest.

“I didn't,” he forcefully responded, “Why do think my question was so vague, I was trying to be subtle, you dolt!”

Realising she'd stitched herself up, Laura backed off, her face showing she was trying to process the situation. Turning to Judy, she yanked the rabbit's notepad out of her paws.

“You don't write any of this down,” she said sternly, with a hint of pleading in her voice.

Judy, a surprised expression on her face from having her notepad taken before she could react, shot a quick look towards Nick, who gave a slight nod.

“Sure,” Judy said, turning back to Laura, “You can consider any conversation in the next few minutes to be entirely off record.”

Laura nodded in appreciation before beginning to talk.

“Firstly, let me make it clear, I don't get involved in stolen cars or vans or anything. The work I do is strictly on legally owned vehicles. It's just that sometimes... well, let me give an example. A businessmam, likes fast cars, has the   
money to buy fast cars. But the cars he likes are designed to go much faster than the legally allowed speed limits. 

So what does he do? He gets his plates... 'adjusted'. Any speed camera that snaps him, can't identify the car. A real life mammal could, but the system is so automated these days that the pictures rarely get to be seen by anyone who   
isn't a computer. If by any chance he does get pulled over, he's got the real plates in the trunk. Nine times out of ten, the cops send him on his way with a warning to change the plates back.”

Laura leant against the door frame, steeling herself.

“I may or may not be involved in producing the adjusted plates.”

“But we're not dealing with a real plate number that's been adjusted, we're dealing with a fake one,” said Judy. “In fact, come to think of it, where did the idea that it was unreadable come from?”

“Because the Museum of Art is in the middle of downtown,” said Nick, “There's no way out of there without passing a camera, and the system didn't read a single fake plate last night. I checked when we were on our way over here.”

“Aww, look at you, using your intuition,” teased Judy.

“Carrots please, not in front of civilians.”

Laura looked at the two of them impassively, too caught up with her own thoughts about revealing her illegal activities to a couple of cops.

“Besides which,” said Nick, a cheeky look in his eyes, “I've seen Laura here knock up fake plates as well.”

“What the fuck!” exclaimed Laura loudly.

“Honestly, I have no clue whether the plates were adjusted or not, that's just an intelligent guess. I just wanted you to dig your own hole instead of letting us do it for you.”

Laura's fists clenched, “Just out of curiosity, and I'm aware such a thing usually kills a cat, what's the penalty for assaulting a police officer?”

Judy jumped in between the pair.

“Okay, let's all just calm down a moment here,” she said. “No one's getting arrested. Not for assault, not for producing fake license plates, not anything.”

“Look, Laura,” said Nick, his tone changing to serious, “All things considered, we just want your help. You're the best person I know at producing fake plates. Admittedly that's not a great compliment considering the legality of it, but   
hey, I'm not one to talk about being the best at something that's legally suspect.”

Seemingly pacified, at least for now, Laura visibly untensed.

“What do you want to know?”

“If there's one thing I remember about you, it's that you take pride in your work. You're one of the few mechanics in Zootopia that could produce a good untraceable fake. I also remember that you have a very good memory, so combining those two things, I was wondering whether the plate in question may have been one of yours.”

“Depends, what's the number.”

Nick looked over to Judy who then looked up to Laura.

“Um, can I have my notepad back?”

Sighing, Laura reluctantly handed it over.

“The plate is 30DHT92,” said Judy, finding the page she'd written it on.

“You said it was a van right?” asked Laura, after contemplating for a few seconds.

“That's correct,” replied Judy.

“Colour?”

“White.”

Laura chuckled, “It was mostly red when I worked on it, had some sweet artwork on the side. The owner wanted new plates fixed because he was tired of getting into explosive arguments with traffic cops. Sound familiar, Wilde?”

If life were a cartoon, a light bulb would have appeared over Nick's head. “An argumentative owner of a red van with distinctive artwork on the side

“Say hi from me when you go see him. He still owes me money for that.”

Laura walked back into her office, clearly indicating she was done being questioned. Judy furrowed her brow at the cheetah's answers.

“Nick, what's she mean by that?”

Nick had a concerned look on his face. “She's suggesting something I don't like the sound of. I'm worried an old friend might have got himself into some trouble.”

It was Judy's turn to have a sudden revelation. “Finnick! She was talking about Finnick! But why would he be involved in something like this?”

“He wouldn't,” Nick said definitively, “Not now that he's gone straight.”

“Finnick's gone straight?” Judy asked surprised. “When did this happen.”

“Like a month ago, I'm sure I told you.”

“You did not, no.”

“Really? I could have sworn... I remember, we were eating at Paco's Diner at the time.”

“I've never even heard of that diner.”

Nick slapped his forehead and chuckled, “Oh, of course, that was my mother, silly me. Any regardless of that, Finn's a legitimate business mammal now. Or so he says. I think we better go have a chat with him.”

Nick raised his voice, “Thanks for the help, Laura!”

“Fuck off and die, Wilde,” came the reply. “Don't come back to my garage ever again.”

“With customer service like that, how can I ever stay away?”

As he turned to leave, Nick had a sudden thought.

“Hey Laura, how are you at fixing air conditioning?”

It took a lot of cajoling, mainly from Judy, but eventually they were able to get the mechanic fixing the patrol car's faulty air-con. Appealing to Laura's interest in vehicles she'd never had a chance to work on before seemed to be the key.

Thankfully the weather had cleared allowing her to work mostly unhindered, as the garage had no room for any other cars.

The two officers stood watching her from across the street, still in the garage's warmth. Noticing her partner seemed unusually quiet, Judy gazed up to see Nick with a look of worry and clearly distracted.

“Nick?”

“Huh?” he responded, snapping out of his thoughts.

“It's not like you to lose focus, slick. Got something on your mind?”

“I'm thinking maybe... Thai food tonight. Or possibly sushi. You?”

“Nick,” started Judy.

“Alright fine, I'm worried about Finn. I know he's gone straight but it's not in the most salubrious industry. If he's involved in this...”

Nick's thoughts once again started to drift.

“It'll be fine, Nick,” said Judy, placing a reassuring paw on her partner's arm. “Finnick isn't stupid. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation to all of this.”

Nick didn't seem convinced, but Judy noticed him relax slightly anyway.

“What was that you said about him not working in the best industry?”

Before Nick could answer, Laura interrupted them.

“Okay, that should be working now.”

“Thanks Laura,” said Judy, “How much do we owe you?”

“I'll send the bill to the ZPD,” replied the cheetah, retreating back into the warmth of her garage. “Oh, and Wilde?”

“Err, yeah?”

“If I ever see you around here again, I'll castrate those two sorry, pea sized, fuzzballs you call testicles and shove them so far up your ass that you'll coughing up sperm for the rest of your life.”

Thankfully for Nick, Laura did not hear his very audible gulp he made as she was walking away. Judy did however, and had to stifle yet another laughing fit.

“Isn't threatening a police officer a crime?” asked Nick.

“Oh please, you deserve it,” Judy replied derisively as she turned to head back to the car.

The pair got back into the police cruiser and cranked up the heating. Nick once again gave directions to Judy as the two set off to find the fox's former partner in crime.


End file.
